Questioning
by Souris
Summary: Jack isn't the only one questioning Vaughn's effectiveness as Sydney's handler


Questioning  
By: Souris  
Rated: PG  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Never will be. Entertainment purposes. J.J. Abrams. Yadda yadda.  
Summary: Jack isn't the only one questioning Vaughn's effectiveness as Sydney's handler.  
Author's Note: My slave-driving muse wouldn't let me finish the caper-fic I'm working on until I got this angsty little piece written.  
  
Pierre's Bistro, Los Angeles  
  
Jack pushed the last bite of creme brulee around in the dish. "I think you should be assigned another handler," he said matter-of-factly, as if he had just suggested that he might buy a new suit.  
  
"What?" Sydney shook her head slightly, as if to make sure that she had heard him correctly. This evening with her father had been nice, if a little strained. They weren't used to making small-talk over dinner, and it had showed. He had asked about Francie and Will and her classes, although she could tell that he was more interested in *appearing* interested than possessed of any great curiosity about them. But she appreciated the effort. All things considered, she had thought that the meal had gone well. They hadn't mentioned anything about work -- until now.  
  
"I can talk to Devlin on Monday, I know he'll understand --"  
  
"You will not!" Sydney noticed the couple at the next table glance over, and she moderated her voice to a forceful hiss. "You don't have any right to do that! He's *my* handler."  
  
"I know that you like Agent Vaughn, but he doesn't have the experience you need. He means well, I'm sure, but he's gotten too ... emotionally attached. That is only going to get you killed."  
  
"The only thing that will get me killed is what *I* do. This is *my* life and *my* choice. The danger goes with the territory." Sydney was furious. She had thought that her father might be softening, losing a little of his high-handed arrogance, relating to her more as his daughter and a person instead of as a possession or an annoyance. But right now he was completely out of line. Vaughn was wonderful and had done nothing except try to help her. "And If I *ever* find out that you've tried to get Vaughn taken off my case, this will be the *last* dinner we ever share. You are *not* going to take him away from me, too."  
  
For a moment, they regarded each other in stubborn silence, Sydney's face flushed with anger, Jack's impassive. He wondered if she even realized the implications of what she had just said. "Sydney, I'm only concerned about your welfare."  
  
"And so is Vaughn." She relaxed a bit and attempted a smile. "I know you just want to protect me. And I appreciate it, I do. But I won't accept another handler, and I don't want you to ever suggest it again. You don't have anything to worry about with Vaughn."  
  
But he had seen the look in her eyes, and he knew that he did.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warehouse, City of Industry  
  
"How was your dinner with your father?" Vaughn asked. Sydney could tell that something was bothering him. She had felt his tension the moment she walked into the warehouse. She assumed that whatever was causing it was the reason he'd asked her to meet him tonight. For once, there was no pressing mission -- at least that she was aware of.  
  
"It was fine." She made a face and relented her assessment. "Awkward. But at least we're trying."  
  
"That's good." He took a deep breath. "Sydney, I think ... I think it would be best if ... if you were assigned another handler."  
  
"What??" It was one of the last things she had expected him to say. And hearing it twice in one night couldn't be a coincidence. "Are you -- has my father been talking to you?"  
  
It didn't surprise him that Jack had apparently suggested the same thing to her; he had certainly made no secret of his disdain for him. "No. But whatever he's said to you about it -- he's right."  
  
"He's not right!"  
  
"Sydney, how many times am I going to almost get you killed before there's no 'almost' anymore?"  
  
"If this is about Havana, then that's ridiculous, because I would've gone without your help --"  
  
"It is about Havana. And Berlin. And the computer worm -- God, I was *this close* to blowing your cover --"  
  
"But that was my fault! You wouldn't have trusted Sloane's message if I had thought to tell you that SD-6 might have noticed the worm. That was stupid of *me*, not you."  
  
He shook his head dismissively. "The point is, that what you're doing is so dangerous, you need somebody with more experience, somebody who knows when to back off and when to take a risk. Somebody who won't get you killed." He looked at her, stricken. "Sydney, I couldn't bear it if I did something that caused ... if anything happened to you."  
  
And I think I'm in love with you and I can't trust myself to make rational decisions about your life anymore, he thought and, of course, did not say. The prospect of never seeing her again almost drove him to his knees, but he would do anything, put up with any amount of personal pain if it would keep her alive. That mattered more than anything.  
  
Sydney felt desperation rising within her. "Vaughn, no, you're the only one I can trust, the only one I can talk to. I know you care. I know that you'll do everything you can to keep me safe. That's why I can do this at all. Because you're here."  
  
"Sydney --"  
  
"Please, Vaughn. I need a friend. I don't need *Lambert* or some other jerk who's only interested in what information I can get them."  
  
"It wouldn't be like that --"  
  
"It would. It *was*." She reached out and grabbed his hand. "Don't make me do this without you. I *need* you."  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. It was all he could do not to raise her hand to his lips, to pull her tightly into his arms, to rain kisses on her face and whisper that he'd never leave her, never, that he'd do whatever she needed.  
  
I have to do this, he thought. God help me do this. He opened his eyes to meet her pleading brown ones. He could see the tears welling up in their corners, threatening to fall at any moment.  
  
He cursed himself, but it was no use. He couldn't do it. He should, he knew he should, but he couldn't. He couldn't leave her. Not now.  
  
"It's OK, Sydney. I won't talk to Devlin. But if you *ever* think that you'd be better off with somebody else, then I want you to tell me."  
  
"I won't." She bestowed a brilliant smile on him and squeezed his hand.  
  
He smiled back at her, her words resonating in his mind. I'll just have to be better, he thought. I'll make sure I deserve her respect. I'll protect her. I'll make sure that neither one of us ever regrets this.   
  
She believes in me. I can do anything.  
  
* * * * *  
  
In the shadows of the rows of crates, unnoticed by either of them, a figure watched in silence.  
  
They talked for a few more minutes before slipping out into the night. Jack was too far away to hear what they said, but the only thing he needed to read was their body language.  
  
He could see the danger forming. Oh, yes, there was definitely something to worry about. The only question was, was there anything he could do about it? Or was it already too late? 


End file.
